


Wicked and Divine

by janescott



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Glam Rock RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M, NC-17, RPF, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-17
Updated: 2011-08-17
Packaged: 2017-10-22 18:23:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/241146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janescott/pseuds/janescott
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the http://community.livejournal.com/glam_kink prompt: Everyone is supposed to be going out for the night. Adam isn't really feeling a crowd so he goes back to the band bus to get a drink. Tommy's there but he doesn't hear Adam. Adam watches as Tommy gets undressed. He tells himself he should leave but then he sees Tommy take out a package. He quickly realizes it's a vibrator. By the tentative expression on Tommy's face, Adam can tell this will be his first time experimenting with a toy. He can't make himself look away. He watches as Tommy opens himself up with his fingers. Then as he slowly inserts the toy all the way and turns it on. Adam is transfixed (and hard as a rock) watching a moaning Tommy fuck himself with the toy while jerking off. When Tommy comes, Adam hears him gasp his name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wicked and Divine

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by magenta. Once again, no disrespect, just playing with the action figures :-)

The club is hot, crowded and noisy; a pounding bass line throbbing through the wall and through the bodies on the crowded dance floor.

Normally, Adam would be in the middle of it; dancing, flirting; finding a cute body to grind against.

Lose himself for a couple of hours. But something feels off tonight; the music jangles on his nerves, and it's too hot; too crowded, and he can feel too many eyes on him. He lasts through one and a half martinis before leaning over to Terrance and saying "I'm heading back. Not feeling it tonight."

Terrance studies his face for a moment, then nods. "Get some sleep," he shouts over the noise and Adam laughs, nods, and quietly makes his way through the club, half-conscious of the presence of a bodyguard three steps behind him.

He gets out, somehow, without being accosted and takes a deep breath of the warm night air. "Back to the buses," he says to the bodyguard's unspoken question. The guy just nods, impassive, and they head for the cars that had brought them to the club.

Adam slumps back against the seat and closes his eyes, grateful for even a tiny respite from the noise.

He's unsettled; restless under his skin, his shoulders high and tight against his neck. At the buses, he gets out, and wavers, before resolutely heading for his own bus, and his bed. He needs ... privacy. Silence. Somewhere he can hear himself think.

The bus is empty and quiet, but not silent. There's light spilling from his door, and Adam hears the rustle of plastic, or something. He stops in confusion, frowning. Mostly they have no secrets from each other, but they also all respect each other's privacy, so the thought that someone might be going through his things ... Adam walks quietly to the door, where he stops in shock, his brain trying to process what his eyes are seeing.

Tommy's standing by the side of Adam's bed, frowning down at it; his long fringe falling over his face. Adam's fingers twitch and he rubs them as quietly as he can on the front of his jeans. He wants to touch; to push his fingers through Tommy's long, long fringe in private; to see what kind of a reaction he would get. Would Tommy pull away? Go pliant and limp like he does on stage? Slap Adam across the face?

Adam lets out a silent breath of a sigh; acknowledging to himself that he's never going to know. Straight boys like Tommy are like heroin: addictive, and very, very bad for you. Adam knows this. He knows it in his head; and he's been trying to get his heart - and his dick - to get the same memo.

He shakes his head, and refocuses on what Tommy is doing in Adam's room. There's a red scarf thrown over the bedside lamp, and the room is bathed in soft red light. Adam traces over Tommy's lean frame with his eyes, before he focuses on what's on the bed: a towel, a bottle of lube, and - oh.

 

Oh. Adam presses the heel of his hand against his crotch, suddenly so hard, he's dizzy for a second as his blood rushes south. There's packaging scattered on the bed - the source of the sound that drew him - and he pulls back into the shadows slightly as Tommy picks up the vibrator that he's just unwrapped. It's fairly slim, by Adam's standards, and he wonders if this is Tommy's first ... he bites down so hard on his lower lip he thinks he's going to draw blood.

His suspicions are confirmed when Tommy picks up the remains of the packaging, studying the back of it. He quickly inserts batteries, and Adam jumps when a low buzz echoes around the room.

"Well, that works," he hears Tommy mutter.

He should move. He should go - sneak out; then make as much noise as possible so Tommy can - Adam doesn't move. He's transfixed as Tommy slowly pulls his t-shirt over his head; the red light making his skin look warm and sleek. Adam presses his hand down again; desperate as his cock throbs in time with is pulse. He licks his lips and keeps staring, as Tommy takes off his shoes, socks and shimmies out of his skinny, skinny jeans.

Helplessly Adam stands transfixed. He's seen Tommy naked, or partly naked before; there really are no secrets on tour, but it's always been in dressing rooms; in public contexts with no ... weight.

Now ... Adam lets himself look - stare. It's probably his only chance. His eyes roam over Tommy's arms; his lean, pale legs; his almost too-skinny torso. Adam's mouth starts to water when he catches sight of the jut of Tommy's hipbones, and he can almost feel the skin under his teeth; the soft spot right above his hip where he would leave his mark.

Tommy spreads out the towel, totally focused on what's in front of him, and a small part of Adam is amused that he's thought this far ahead to keep Adam's bed tidy. His brain fritzes again, and he has to talk himself out of trying to push his hand down his pants when Tommy lays down on the bed, spreads his legs, and pours lube over his hand, swearing when too much comes out of the bottle.

 

Adam watches Tommy's chest rise as he takes a breath, then pushes one finger in; slowly. Adam bites his lip again, his natural instinct to want to make it good; to tell Tommy what he should do next wanting to kick in.

But this isn't his show. Tommy moves the finger slowly; in and out; and Adam can almost feel it himself; the initial foreign feel of it; giving way to good good good and Tommy moans when he slides another finger in; turning his wrist and stretching himself; lube running down the back of his thighs.

He hits that spot; that spot that makes sparks go off, and his hips arch up as he swears, his voice low and filthy; and he might as well be saying those words straight to Adam's cock; which is painfully hard now and oh god, he needs to get off.

Adam shifts in the shadows; as quietly as he can; shifting his weight from one foot to the other; his hand massaging his cock through his jeans now; his other hand braced on the wall. His knees buckle when Tommy adds a third finger, and his breath hitches as he stops for a second, his harsh breath taking over the room.

Adam wants to tell him to take it slow; take it easy; if he hasn't done this for a while; because it's got to be tight.

Tommy starts moving his hand again; cautious and slow and he's moaning like a fucking porno film, and Adam thinks he's going to lose his mind when Tommy grips his cock with his free hand, and starts stroking.

He slides his fingers out, suddenly, and Adam just stares at Tommy's lube-slick hole - red, and open and oh, fuck the straight boys, he thinks, anger spiking sudden and frustrated.

He leans his head on the wall, cool against his forehead, before turning back to watch Tommy's unintentional show.

He's got the vibe in his hand now; and it's shining with lube in the red light; making it look obscene somehow. He's tentative; at first, as he switches it on to its lowest setting; the buzz echoing in the silence. Adam stares as Tommy pushes the tip in; hissing slightly at the foreign feel. He pulls it all the way out; then slowly, steadily, pushes it in to its hilt.

He spreads his legs out wide, and Adam wants. He wants to see his hands on Tommy's legs; urging them open; pushing the vibe in and taking Tommy over the edge; his name spilling from Tommy's ...

"Fuck. Adam. Fuck. Adam." Tommy's voice is low, and desperate; rough and choked with something that Adam can't define. He watches, dazed, as Tommy spills all over his stomach; coming hard; one hand wrapped around his cock still and one working the vibrator buried deep in his ass.

Adam stares for a moment more before turning, half-bent over with his own arousal and unspoken needs. He makes it to the front of the bus, locking himself in the tiny bathroom, where he gets himself off in record time with almost too-tight strokes that edge from pleasure into pain.

He hears Tommy a few minutes later; his footsteps loud on the floor. Adam stares at himself in the mirror; his makeup is smudged and it looks like he hasn't slept in days; his eyes are shadowed and his hair is sticking to his forehead in ugly clumps.

Tommy's footsteps pause by the bathroom door, and Adam almost says something; almost calls out. Instead he waits, silent, until the footsteps recede and he can run the water; sticking his wrists under the tap before picking up a washcloth.

Straight boys.  
Fucking heroin.


End file.
